


Black is the Color

by thepottermalfoyproblem



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Hightown Funk, hawke's fluffy hair, post-Adamant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-13
Updated: 2015-08-13
Packaged: 2018-04-14 14:00:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4567188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepottermalfoyproblem/pseuds/thepottermalfoyproblem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trapped by a slumbering Hawke, Varric has time to ponder the feelings he has for his friend. Written for Hightown Funk 2015.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Black is the Color

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rocketpineapple](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rocketpineapple/gifts).



> Disclaimer: I own nothing, sadly.
> 
> The prompt I was given for this fic was as follows:
> 
> _Honestly? I reaaaaally don't mind! I don't even mind if it's just friendfic, really, because I like Bianca and I don't want to see her get bashed (especially not if it is a romance fic). I prefer Inquisition/post-canon Hawke/Varric but I will be okay with DA2 era._  
>  I guess my favourite type of Hawke/Varric is Inquisition/post-Inquisition them meeting up again and being there for each other, whether you want to make that friendly or romantic, I honestly don't mind. As long as they're together I don't mind what their relationship is!

_Black is the color of my true love’s hair_  
_Her face so bright and wondrous fair_  
_The clearest eyes and the strongest hands_  
_I love the ground whereon she stands_

_I love my love and well she knows_  
_I love the ground whereon she goes_  
_Still I hope the time will come_  
_That she and I will be as one_

_I’ll go to the Breach and I’ll mourn and weep_  
_Where satisfied I never shall be_  
_I’ll write her a letter, just a few short lines_  
_And suffer death ten thousand times_

-adapted from the traditional Appalachian ballad _Black is the Color_

\-----

Varric Tethras, being a dwarf, vary rarely had the opportunity to look down upon anyone. Yet here he sat, up on the wall of Skyhold, Hawke’s head resting in his lap as she slept. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed since Hawke had dragged him and a bottle of… something up to her favorite parapet, but he couldn’t bring himself to move and disturb her. In sleep she looked more peaceful, the lines of worry and stress dropping away. If he didn’t know better, Varric would say she looked vulnerable, but this was Marian Hawke.  She lured the unsuspecting in closer before absorbing them into her life.

Smiling fondly at the thought, Varric brushed his hand across her forehead, her silky black hair tickling his fingertips. He ignored the urge to sink his hands deeper into the soft fluff, instead leaning back against the wall and wondering how his life had come to this: loving his friend from a distance and never saying a word as she fell asleep in his lap while his heart ached more with each passing moment.

 _If this were one of my romance novels…_ he thought to himself, and then shook his head to clear it. _But it is not and will never be, so stop thinking about it._

Varric could never figure out when he had started loving Hawke, whether it was on the Deep Roads surrounded by darkspawn, or if it had been during the long nights in the Hanged Man playing cards with friends. He only knew for certain that as the fade closed in around them and Hawke looked as if she were going to run back towards the fight, he had never been more terrified. The world had slowed to a crawl and his focus had narrowed to Hawke, beautiful and deadly. Varric’s feelings had crashed down on top of him then, blindsiding him with their potency.

And yet he could not bring himself to voice them. Not then and certainly not now, even as Hawke lay slumbering with her head pillowed in his lap.

The woman in question stirred a bit, and Varric looked down to see her slowly blinking her eyes open and smiling lazily up at him. Varric’s traitorous heart flip flopped in his chest, and his traitorous hand brushed Hawke’s hair away from her eyes before he caught himself.

He drew his hand away, schooling his face into a friendly smile rather than the mortification that he felt in his gut.

Hawke hummed and stretched like a cat, arms above her head and almost smacking Varric across the face. Varric tried not to think about the way her toes probably curled inside her soft boots and was thus unprepared for her next words. “You’re comfy. I wouldn’t mind waking up like that a little more often.”

Varric choked. He tried not to, but he did. Struggling to regain his composure, he said the first thing that came to mind. “Me too, Hawke, but my arse is asleep and I have you to thank for it.”

“Me? You’re the one who let me fall asleep on you, you have only yourself to blame.” Hawke squinted at the sky before rolling over and sitting up, yawning and stretching again. Varric tried not to stare, this was getting dangerous very quickly. Scratching lazily at her belly with one hand, Hawke pointed at the position of the sun, hanging low in the sky. “Besides, you should have woken me up anyway, I missed training with Dorian and Bull. What gives?”

“I, ah, lost track of time. You looked peaceful in your sleep, not used to seeing you so relaxed.” Varric shrugged, “It was…” he stopped as his brain supplied all sorts of adjectives. Hawke would murder him and there would be absolutely nothing left to send to Bartrand if he called her “cute”. He finished his sentence belatedly with a mumbled “different” and Hawke eyed him with suspicion.

“You alright there, Varric? Your writer’s brain seems to be broken today.” She reached over and tapped him on the forehead. “Hallo, Varric’s brain, he needs you.”

Varric playfully swatted at Hawke’s hand. “That’s not gonna help, Hawke. I…” he trailed off as he realized he had not, in fact, swatted Hawke’s hand away but had caught it and was holding it lightly in his own. Hawke’s eyebrows were disappearing into her raven hair and Varric knew the cat was out of the bag. His heart rose into his throat and no amount of swallowing would dislodge the sudden existential terror. “Shit.”

“Care to explain?” Hawke’s voice seemed amused, but it was sometimes hard to tell. “I was under the impression you were irrevocably taken.”

“I thought so too, but… Andraste’s tits, Hawke, I almost lost you.” The words poured out of Varric’s mouth even as he desperately tried to shut up and laugh it off. “I write for a living and even I can’t begin to describe the complete horror I felt when I thought you were going to run back into the fade. With Bianca… I’ll always hold her in highest regard… but I thought I knew the feeling of hopelessness and desperation when I lost her to her husband until I nearly lost you. Without her I’m still me… but without you I don’t think I would make it very far.” Varric looked down at their still-joined hands, forcibly stopping his thumb from idly stroking across the tips of her fingers. He couldn’t help but notice the contrast of her hand in his: slim and pale, with even paler burn scars from her experiments with fire nestled inside his thicker, darker hands calloused from his crossbow.

He swallowed hard and continued quietly, wishing he could snatch everything back, “I’m sorry, I never meant to say anything, Marian. I’d rather your friendship than nothing at all, and I’m afraid I’ve messed that up now.”

“Hey now,” Hawke hooked her free hand under Varric’s chin and tilted his head up so she could meet his eyes. “You haven’t messed anything up.” Her voice was uncharacteristically soft, but then her eyes crinkled and she smirked wickedly. “I thought I was going to have to lounge naked in your bed to get you to notice me and here I find all my good plotting wasted.”

Varric gaped at Hawke for a moment before finding his voice, gone suddenly rough. “I’m sure you’ll find some use for the idea, sweetheart.”

“Mmm I’m sure I will.” Hawke moved from where she knelt at Varric’s side and swung a leg across his lap, straddling and effectively trapping him. “But for now I have other plans.”

She leaned forward and Varric tilted his head back to meet her. Hawke kissed like she fought, with energy and utterly sure of herself. Varric savored the moment, this first kiss up on the wall of Skyhold. He dropped Hawke’s hand only to slide his fingers through her hair, drawing her closer and deeper into the kiss.

Hawke hummed at the contact and settled into Varric’s lap, and he knew that there was no going back.

Not that he would want to. Nothing could be more perfect.

**Author's Note:**

> Black is the Color is commonly accepted as a traditional Appalachian ballad with roots in Irish folk music. The modified version I used at the beginning of this fic is based on [this adaption](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zETcuTPsCHE) by Marc Gunn.
> 
> I hope you liked the story!


End file.
